


with sugar

by fascinationex



Series: bleach works by fascinationex [12]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Human, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 21:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14065803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fascinationex/pseuds/fascinationex
Summary: Work, blinks the cracked screen, along with the time, which is all of 6:02 AM.Nnoitra squints.He’s not rostered until Friday. If work’s calling, it means there’s a problem. Someone’s sick or something. Or Starrk did something stupid and nobody’s rostered at all.…sucks for them.





	with sugar

**Author's Note:**

> This one was for an occasion on which [sylvaine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylvaine) prompted me with "Tesla is a baker".

Something’s buzzing. Nnoitra cracks his eye open. His right eye - the left is long gone, except for an ugly scar and a headache that never seems to go away.

His blinds are drawn but he can’t see daylight around the edges. His room is dark except for the bright sliver of a screen flashing on his bedside table.

That buzzing is his phone.

He grunts and fumbles for it with clumsy fingers.

 _Work_ , blinks the cracked screen, along with the time, which is all of 6:02 AM.

Nnoitra squints.

He’s not rostered until Friday. If work’s calling, it means there’s a problem. Someone’s sick or something. Or Starrk did something stupid and nobody’s rostered at all.

…sucks for them.

Nnoitra mutes the call and shoves his head under the blanket.

The phone buzzes again twelve minutes later, and yeah, work again. Nnoitra takes that to mean that nobody else is answering at arse o'clock in the fucking morning, either. There’s a shock.

He groans and burrows deeper.

Should he turn it off? Nah. They won’t call more than twice.

He’s drifting back to sleep when the buzzing starts up. Again.

What the fuck.

He grabs the phone, deeply annoyed now. Who does this at six in the morning??? Is it Neliel at the shop just fucking smacking the redial button like the piece of shit whore she –

It’s not the shop.

 _Tesla_ , reads his screen now.

Nnoitra smacks the “answer” option with zero impulse control.

“Nnghh,” he snarls into his phone.

There’s dead silence.

“I swear,” he growls, “if this is you dialling with your fuckin’ butt–”

“No,” says Tesla, soft but flat. Nnoitra’s shoulders drop at the sound of his voice, even though there’s a distinct note of strain in it. “You didn’t pick up earlier.”

“I was asleep earlier, idiot.”

“Ah. Yes. Of course.” There’s a pause and Nnoitra grinds his teeth. “Sorry to wake you,” says Tesla politely because Tesla’s always polite, even to absolute shits like Nel and Grimmjow who don’t deserve it at all. “Grimmjow is sick, and hasn’t been able to come in. I was wondering if you were available.”

 _No_ , says Nnoitra’s brain, because he has plans for his day. They involve standing for twenty minutes under boiling water and going back to bed to sleep for another sixteen hours while his skin’s still red and steaming with it.

…the baker’s shift starts at four, though, and front of house doesn’t end until five. 

“…Did you try anyone else?” Nnoitra says instead.

“Aa. Starrk isn’t answering –” of course not, because Starrk wouldn’t be caught dead awake before noon, “– Szayel’s phone went straight to voicemail, and Neliel was–”

“Whatever,” Nnoitra interrupts. He’s already moving, shoving a heavy spill of hair from his good eye and crawling out from beneath his covers. Tesla stops talking immediately. “I’ll be there in an hour, and  _you_ –” he stops. Ugh. He grinds his teeth again. Falls silent.

“Thank you,” Tesla says into the hush. It’s hard to read tone into his voice, that strained unhappy note has faded and now he just sounds polite and deferential. “I owe you one.”

“Oh, fuck off,” mutters Nnoitra, stooping automatically so he doesn’t smack his head on the light fixture. “You can tell Grimmjow he owes me. I bet he’s not even sick,” he adds, sharp and bitter, because everyone knows Wednesday is cheap beer night at the bar.

“Hungover is still sick,” Tesla points out reasonably, but not as though he’s trying very hard to defend him.

“Yeah, and a hangover makes him a really serious vector of–” vector of something. That’s a Szayel phrase. Nnoitra doesn’t even know how it ends. Where’s his stupid patch? He knocks over the bedside lamp looking and doesn’t bother to pick it up.

“He’s not sick. He’s just a dick.” And now he’s sleeping in while Nnoitra is staggering around in the pre-dawn dark like an idiot.

Steel clatters in the background somewhere there, and Tesla makes a hissing noise between his teeth with which Nnoitra is already familiar. That kid’s so clumsy – he must burn himself every time Nnoitra walks into the damn kitchen.

“Get off the phone, moron,” says Nnoitra, completely in defiance of the fact that it’s his bitching that’s kept Tesla on the line this whole time.

“Aa,” Tesla agrees. “I’ll see you in an hour. Ah, Nnoitra,” he adds, just as Nnoitra’s finger’s hovering over the “end call” symbol.

Nnoitra pauses. “Ngh?”

“Please take an umbrella.”

And then he hangs up.

Nnoitra scowls at the blank screen, then leans over and yanks his curtain back.

Of course it’s raining. It’s slicking down the window pane like a wall of water, heavy as a shower.

He shoves back the window and sticks his hand out. It’s icy. And wet. His fingers go numb almost immediately.

No wonder Grimmjow stayed in bed. If Nnoitra’d had the good sense god gave a gnat he’d have stayed in bed, too.

He hisses through his teeth and thinks about doing exactly that for a long, long second.

Then he thinks about calling Tesla back and telling him  _No way in hell, I’m going back to bed_.

…He can almost hear Tesla’s blandly polite response. Fuck Tesla, anyway. He’s always all buttoned up like that.

Nnoitra gives the rain one long, unhappy glower.

He finally finds his eye patch and shoves it on. He feels less naked.

He pulls on a million layers in the hope that they’ll trap some heat, but he doesn’t hold out much hope. Then it’s knee high boots today, for several reasons – in order of importance: because he likes them, because they have excellent grippy soles and because there’s zero chance of getting wet toes in them. He also enjoys the hard authoritative  _snap, snap, snap_  they make when he stalks down a corridor. The boots are a quality investment, really.

His hair can do whatever bullshit it’s doing now – it usually ends up spilling all over the left side of his face, of course, but it’s not like he needs that for seeing.

He stomps down three flights of dimly lit concrete stairs and steps outside through his broken security door.

Still cold.

And wet, too. Nnoitra gets immediately soaked because he’s forgotten an umbrella.

He checks his phone but he knows he’ll miss the train if he goes back for one.

…He might miss the train anyway, actually.

“Ugh,” mutters Nnoitra, and breaks into a jog. The activity does nothing to warm him up.

***

**Author's Note:**

> I know this AU is a stupid and ridiculous idea but love the idea of Nnoitra and Tesla in this setting with all of the other arrancar. I have. So many terrible ideas and headcanons for it. Just. So many. Szayel prepares food for human consumption here. Starrk is responsible for people getting paid on time. Just. There's so many ways this AU can go wrong.
> 
> Anyway, if you liked something about it let me know. Otherwise have a good night.


End file.
